


Foolish American Snob

by messedupstargazer



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Caring Illya, M/M, Sleepy Napoleon, tired boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8030143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messedupstargazer/pseuds/messedupstargazer
Summary: Person A coming home to find Person B asleep at their desk and putting them to bed.





	Foolish American Snob

Illya crept into his and Napoleon’s New York apartment. It was past two in the morning and Illya had just come home from a successful mission in Moscow, where a lone KGB agent would blend in much more than a British spy, or worse, an American snob. He loved his partner but Napoleon was much snobbier than any Russian could ever dream to be. He shut the door silently and hung up his jacket. He took off his shoes and placed them besides Napoleon. For an American, he was very intent on everything being in its place. Granted, he was an American snob.

Illya was bone tired and very much intended to crawl into bed with his boyfriend and sleep until he had to go into work. Illya ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Napoleon's desk light was still on. That meant the challenge of fighting to get Napoleon to go to bed. Napoleon often got lost in his work and it took excruciating effort to convince him to go to bed and sleep. Well, maybe not always but right now that effort would be excruciating. Illya opened the door to their bedroom and smiled gently. Napoleon was hunched over his desk, working on some analysis for Waverly. Illya placed his hand on Napoleon's shoulder.

“Cowboy, it’s time to stop.” Illya whispered.

Napoleon didn’t answer and Illya pressed further to get a good look at Napoleon's face. Slack muscles, even breathing, and a slightly pinched expression on his face. His darling American snob was fast asleep at his desk. Illya rolled his eyes but he could feel the genuine smile tug at his lips. It seemed that sleep had finally caught up to Napoleon, whether he wanted it to or not.

Knowing Napoleon’s neck would never forgive him if he stayed in that position, Illya then slid an arm under Napoleon's knees and kept one hand wrapped around his back. Slowly, meticulously, Illya lifted Napoleon from his chair. Napoleon shifted, the lines in his face smoothing out as the pressure from his neck was relieved and he buried his face into Illya's chest. Illya maneuvered Napoleon onto the bed, removed his shoes and socks, unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off him with gentle ministrations. The pants were a much different story. Napoleon would kill him if Illya let him wear suit pants to bed but he knew with the slightest wrong move he would wake him. Neither were desirable options. But Illya was no coward. So he placed a hand right at the small of Napoleon's back and lifted gently. Seeming like he moved an hour at a time, he slowly slid the pants off of his boyfriend. At least Napoleon didn’t always sleep in his expensive cashmere pajamas. Illya couldn’t help with that to save his life. If Napoleon was foolish enough to fall asleep at his desk, he could sleep in whatever Illya dictated. Once Napoleon was tucked underneath the blankets, Napoleon's eyes blinked open.

“Illya?” Napoleon breathed.

It seemed his American was more tired than originally thought. He only ever called Illya by his name when he was worried, or when they were having fun in the bedroom. But neither situation applied here.

“I'm here now.” Illya said softly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Missed you.” Napoleon murmured, blinking the cobwebs from his mind. Illya sat down on the bed.

“And I you.” Illya kissed his forehead. “Rest, Napoleon. I will still be here in morning.”

Napoleon's eyes fluttered closed and he sank back into the pillows. Illya finished undressing himself and then climbed into bed with Napoleon. As per usual, Napoleon immediately suction cupped to his side and the warmth Illya's body heat brought. Illya chuckled low in his throat and rubbed his nose into Napoleon's hair, loving the scent of the American. Napoleon's even breathing and the weight of his lover sent Illya deep into sleep, where no nightmares could harm him.


End file.
